


(Not) my beloved

by melissachan



Series: Danganronpa Short Fics [4]
Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Angst, Crying, Dead Enoshima Junko, Despair Era (Dangan Ronpa), Despair Komaeda Nagito, Despair Tsumiki Mikan, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/F, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Jealousy, Komaeda Nagito Needs a Hug, Multi, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, One Shot, Past Abuse, Past Enoshima Junko/Tsumiki Mikan, Stalking, Tsumiki Mikan Needs a Hug, against his will, and therapy, is it rape if you jerk off with your dead girlfriend's hand that some guy implanted, yet again
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:07:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27691864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melissachan/pseuds/melissachan
Summary: Mikan was ready to do anything to feel Her touch one more time.
Relationships: Enoshima Junko/Komaeda Nagito/Tsumiki Mikan, Enoshima Junko/Tsumiki Mikan, Komaeda Nagito/Tsumiki Mikan
Series: Danganronpa Short Fics [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2045011
Comments: 1
Kudos: 23





	(Not) my beloved

With each careful stitch around his wrist, her despair grew stronger. She wanted to cry, scream, lay on the floor and never get up, but her motions remained short and professional. The excited smile never left her face as she proceeded to disinfect every point where the suture contacted the skin, making sure nothing will rot or get infected. He was smiling too, the glint in his eyes both sinister and exited. With every moment, every time she touched her beloved’s hand, now lifeless, cold, not reacting, not responding, not reaching out, not wanting to entangle with her fingers, scratch her back, touch her cheeks gently, the truth that she wanted forget was sinking deeper.

Junko Enoshima is dead.

No matter how she tried to deny it, Mikan Tsumiki knew it was the truth.

Later she found herself observing Nagito Komaeda closely, more closely than she should. He was reading a book, putting it on Her hand in a clumsy, semi-stable position, and turning the pages with his healthy one. For some reason it made Mikan feel anger. Rage. Her beloved would never move so clumsily, so inefficiently. Her beloved would never read a boring science book – she already knew all that was written there, and if she didn’t, it was not needed. Her beloved would never waste time on books. Instead she would cuddle with her, dance with her, hold the back of her head while kissing her neck, love her, forgive her…!

Nagito Komaeda was cooking something. Holding a bowl with Her hand, awkwardly pressing it against his body, mixing it up with the healthy one. Such a dumb, pathetic use of Her wonderful flesh, it made Mikan feel… despair. Wasn’t it exactly what She wanted? Mikan knew she should just give up, forget about it, think about something else. But the thought of Junko’s nimble, drift fingers touching her again, tenacious, skilled in all methods of inflicting both pleasure and despair alike, warm, moving on her skin gently despite those long, red nails… It was driving her unable to think about anything else.

She found herself standing before Nagito Komaeda’s bed, observing him silently. He seemed to sleep deeply – Mikan knew how to approach people quietly, one of her many survival skills. She also knew how someone’s breathing changes when they wake up… She didn’t want to wake him up, or to even see his face. She just wanted to feel Her touch again, nothing more.

She carefully pulled the blanket back. Her heart began to beat faster as she saw those familiar red nails, Her signature, they remained the same no matter what kind of fancy clothes She was wearing. Mikan touched the back of Her hand, as carefully as she could, with way more caution than she had shown on any of medicine procedures she ever preformed. It remained cold and lifeless – but she could almost swear it twitched slightly, as if Junko Enoshima wanted to respond, feeling the familiar touch.

She planned to leave, but she couldn’t hold it back anymore. She knelt before the bed, kissing Her hand softly, slowly moving her tongue across. She moved down, reaching the familiar red nail… There was no response. Nobody was touching the tip of her nose playfully, or patting her head, or even poking her eye angrily, and it made Mikan want to cry. She raised her head, her eyes full of tears, her lip trembling and her cheeks running red. Only now she noticed that Nagito had opened his eyes, looking at her… more curiously than anything.

“Do you need something?” he asked, sounding half-sleepy, half-annoyed. Mikan pressed her finger against her lips, a simple gesture meaning that one should keep their mouth shut. “I only need Her. Not you,” she answered calmly.

Mikan gently took Her hand by the wrist, putting the palm on her chest, under her shirt and apron. Nagito tried to jerk it back, but Mikan only strengthened the grip, pressing the palm harder against her own skin. It felt cold, very cold – the touch of the dead flesh sent a pleasant, thrilling chill down her spine.

She moved Her hand down, slowly, trying to imitate Junko’s skillful, gentle movements with best of her abilities. But her fingers were clumsy, not good enough to achieve even a fraction, a pale imitation of what felt like her beloved. But it didn’t matter. Just feeling the touch was more than enough. Her body felt hot as she continued to move Her hand around her chest and stomach, Her still beautiful red nails scratching her pleasantly, bringing familiar memories. Those echoes of the past brought no relief, only understanding that it all won’t ever be real again. She was crying – tears fell down her cheeks as she was trying not to laugh, laugh in despair.

“Don’t worry. There is no hope in what I’m doing,” she said quietly, struggling to talk through her broken sobs. “Only despair. So you don’t need to resist,” she smiled through her tears.

She moved the hand down. It was almost time. She put three fingers together, pressing them against each other. She opened her mouth trying not to moan as she felt them inside. She imagined that warm, wet, pleasant feeling her beloved must have felt…

She knew neither Junko Enoshima nor Nagito Komaeda felt it.

Mikan turned on the light, cleaned the hand – not only with water, so nobody would ever know what happened there, but also with all kind of meds, so nothing wrong would happen to Nagito’s body. He didn’t say a word, didn’t even look at her, staring emptily into the distance instead. He was shaking weakly – from the cold, Mikan was sure, so she should offer him a cup of warm tea now.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Izum for beta read.


End file.
